


When Paradise Lounge turns into Hell Lounge

by TeslavonZ



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood As Lube, Blood and Injury, Drinking, Elliott is having a bad time, Gang Rape, Gang Violence, Gangbang, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Multi, No Lube, Rape, Smoking, Spitroasting, cigarette burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeslavonZ/pseuds/TeslavonZ
Summary: After a long day in the ring, Elliott has to close his bar but it all turn to hell when he forgets to lock the doors after escorting the last customer out.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Other(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	When Paradise Lounge turns into Hell Lounge

**Author's Note:**

> Hiyeeee!!!  
> First, read the tags very well because some topics in this fic can be quite triggering for some people so if you do not like any of those tags, I suggest you do not read this work.  
> Second of all, this is my FIRST english fanfiction I ever posted in my life, being french born and I've learned my secondary languages less than a decade ago so... I'm a little nervous about this ^^; But since I've had an amazing Beta for this, I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it! :D  
> Last but not the least, this came to fruition that it was Octane sending a squad of mafia/yakuza style of dudes to fuck Elliott up after being bitter that he beat him in the arena. That little shit, Octavio xP

"C'mon, Silva. Time for you to go back on the dropship. You shouldn't stay up all night if you don't want me to kick your butt in the arena and steal the win from right under your nose again tomorrow", chuckled the owner of the Paradise Lounge as he gave a friendly slap on his fellow Legend's shoulder. 

It had been quite the glorious day for Elliott, taking the crown at the last minute in the last match despite all the odds that had been playing against him. Both Pathfinder and Wraith had been downed and finished quite early in the match by the duo squad that had been formed of Caustic and Revenant and Mirage hadn’t had the chance of getting their banner to respawn them in time because the two maniacs had been guarding their deathbox for the whole duration of the time allowed to do so until it timed out. The Trickster could’ve thrown in the towel and decided to jump a full squad to simply get murdered but he decided to play his cards smartly; For most of the match, he had stayed out of sight, surviving instead of fighting, but was never far when a fight would erupt, waiting for it to finish so he could raid death boxes once the winner of the encounter left the vicinity. And that’s how the famous Legend got his hands on the best equipment to get ready to face the final squad. 

The last squad consisted of Bangalore, Bloodhound and Octane. Elliott counted himself lucky there was a tall building to hide and snipe down both the Tracker and the Soldier when the last ring was closing in, but cursed himself for running out of time to take a shot on the Speedster… He found himself ditching the Kraber to avoid the angry red forcefield leaving his pretty face out in the open. Octane cackled when he realised that it was now a 1v1 since nobody else was showing up and Mirage had damned the kid’s fast reflexes because the myriad of R99 bullets that had hit him multiple times square in the chest had hurt like a son of a bitch. Enough to knock the famous Legend off his feet and down on his knees. 

This had surprised the Junkie because he started to look around in search of the fallen man’s squad since the announcer hadn’t named him champion yet. Elliott’s luck was still going strong as Octane didn’t even notice him crawl away safely behind a supply bin with his gold knock down shield. Time passed as Octavio searched frantically for him, Elliott let out a sigh of relief as the speedster was distracted by the decoy on the ground. He didn’t even take the time to heal himself once he was done stabbing himself with the adrenaline from his knockdown shield. The holo expert simply raised his peacekeeper and aimed at the back of that green haired bastard’s head, chuckling a simple “Sorry, did I confuse you?” before he pulled the trigger. “Boom. You’re dead.” Speedster’s body had touched the ground so fast that he didn’t even hear the last words that came out of Witt’s mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me for single handedly killing your whole squad?”, asked the bartender one last time as they both were at the threshold of the Lounge. 

“Nah. C’mon, Amigo. This is part of the Game. Can’t win all of them!”, answered Silva, turning to face his ‘coworker’ with a devious smile that looked terribly suspicious… If he didn’t know the Junkie better, he’d say that kid was up to something… 

“But you can be sure that I’ll be taking my time hunting you down and killing you as payback tomorrow.“ After giving a teasing soft slap on Elliott’s cheek, Octavio turned his back to him and left the bar with his usual cackle, leaving the other man by himself, worried. A part of him didn’t trust how...calm Silva seemed to be. He was finding himself getting nervous meeting him in the ring tomorrow.However, before he could really worry about this, he had another job to do; Close his bar.

The curly haired man lets out a sigh as he hits a switch on the holo emitter that adorned the window next to him, changing the bright letters that were floating and displaying ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED FOR THE NIGHT’, and shutting the doors for tonight. His night shift had not been really busy, but it had been enough that a couple of beer bottles were splayed around the room on different tables. And those damned peanut shells were still scattered around on the floor. ‘Messy customers…’, he thought to himself as he made his way to a backroom where all the cleaning products were stored and came back in the main area with a broom. ‘I really need to invest in one of those automatic vacuums… Roomba or something.’

A bell resonating ripped the Legend out of his thoughts as he heard the front door open. 

“Sorry! We’re closed, mates. Come back tomorrow.”Elliott lifted his head to see four large men standing by the front door, looking kinda rough. None of them said a thing as they kinda just… stood there… staring at him. “I… Wh… I probably just forgot to lock the door after the last customer left… Sorry if it had your hopes high for nothing", ended up pressing the barman just to break the awkward silence. Then, one of the men took a step forward which, for some reason, made Witt take one backward, his heart jumping in his chest. 

“Is that so? What a disappointment. We really wished we could’ve finally taste the famous Witt’s Whiskey right from the source for once since we’re in the neighborhood.” finally said the man that had moved forward, a devious smile growing on his crooked lips. 

"Look… Fellas… Normally I woulda made an exception for such charming patrons but I had an awfully loaded day, if you didn’t have the chance to watch the latest match, you totally should, and tomorrow won’t be any different… So how’s about this? I’ll give you a fresh bottle of said Whiskey for tonight, and on the house!, then come back tomorrow night a little bit earlier, hum? How does that sound?"

Elliott did his best to shine one of his stapled smiles that all his fans love so much and winked at them, hoping those men couldn’t read the nervosity that was lingering on his traits. He couldn’t stop himself to feel like there was something fishy with those guys and Witt was getting impatient for them to leave. Not because he was excited to restart cleaning and do the closing of his bar --well ok. Yes. Or at least he was excited to crash in the nearest bed because he was exhausted and if he could, he would just skip the task of cleaning altogether-- but mostly because something in the air was off. Each and every muscle in the famous Legend’s body were tense like if something at the back of his mind was telling him to stay on edge. Prepared. It was a familiar feeling for the Trickster but normally, it was only in the ring that he would feel that way. Not in his own bar that was like a second home for him…

"Lemme get that bottle for you, right?" Turning around to lean over the counter of the bar, reaching down where some bottles were stashed, Elliott knew instantly he’d made a terrible mistake; rule one he had learned from the games, never turn your back on potential predators… So he gasped when he felt the large frame pressing against his back. 

"Charming, you said?" This tower of a man asked with a chuckle that froze the holo expert’s blood. "Oh… I’m sure you will not find us as charming soon enough… ‘ _Mirage_ ’."

It wasn’t a surprise to the Legend that these strangers knew his handle since he was known across the Outlands as a futuristic gladiator, fighting almost everyday in the famous bloodsport that are the Apex Games, but what did surprise him was those two thick hands that had made their way down on each of his hips. For a few moments, Witt didn’t say a single word, trying to process what was suddenly happening, his eyes widening as the grip tightened on him and he felt something hard press against his behind. Ok. When he had the feeling something bad was going to happen, this isn’t exactly what he had in mind. He thought that these bastards were probably here to rob the Lounge or, limit, just looking for a fight with an Apex Legend --because trust me. That happens sometimes. When some people think they are tougher than an Apex Predator, they come looking for a fight and get their asses handed to them-- but he didn’t think they were here to… well… to rob his intimacy! 

Opening his mouth, nothing came out of it at first but he ended up opting for a plea. "Please. D-don’t hurt-t m-me." The large individual behind the Trickster erupted in a loud obnoxious laugh after hearing the stutter in his prey’s weak voice, his friends following him shortly as they used that fear as a cue for them to also get closer. 

"What a big bad Legend do we have here…“, purred the stranger that was still keeping Mirage pressed against the counter of his own bar with his weight, his lips brushing his ear while his hands now slipped under black long sleeved shirt to explore that tanned body. 

"For someone who kicks asses and takes names on a daily basis, we woulda thought you’d put up a bigger fight. Not instantly break to the simple touch. It’s almost disappointing…" Elliott felt the man nip his ear and it was all that he needed to show that he actually wasn’t scared and that he had fake it just to distract the small gang while he was reaching for the wooden bat --aka a barman’s best friend for unruly customers. After all, Wraith wasn’t always present to play Bouncer-- that was hidden under the counter. 

Using the element of surprise, the famous Legend sent his elbow straight in the gross man’s ribs so he could turn around and swing the bat, making it connect with his jaw. The sweaty individual stumbled backward with a large groan, raising a hand to his face. 

"Ugh! What the fuck! You almost broke my jaw!” He snarled, rubbing the lower part of his face. 

"Get the fuck out of my bar or I’ll break so much more than just your jaw!” Growled back the Trickster who was now opting for a defensive position. He didn’t often use such an aggressive disposition. Most of the time he was a sweet guy, but right now in this type of situation he could drop the routine. 

His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he could hear it thumping in his ears as he struggled keeping his breathing under control, as he was observing the four individuals in front of him. He stood his ground body poise to strike just in case one of them would move. None of them did, except that one who got hit in the jaw a minute ago, still rubbing it and muttering all sorts of swears under his breath, up until the smallest one of the four who was actually covered in tattoos all over his chest and arms, started sneering. 

"C’mon, love dove. Give me that bat before you hurt yourself.” He said while reaching forward. However, Elliott did none of that and he actually swung the wooden piece for a second time, aiming for that very same hand that was raised in his direction. He thought the blow would land with a sickening crack since fingers stretched like that wouldn’t survive against such impact, but his swing was stopped abruptly. 

The tattooed man snickered once his grip closed around the bat and he gave a wink to the bartender, whose eyes widened, before yanking it forward, pulling it’s owner in the same fashion. The next movement happened so quickly that Elliott barely had the time to react as he lost his own grip on the weapon and he was now forced down by a rough grasp on his curly brown lock. A groan left the famous Legend’s throat as he felt a tug on his scalp and it only made the small crowd around him laugh at him. 

"What’s the matter? We thought you could take on a full squad of three all by yourself. Now that we’re four, it’s too many?"Annoyed by his situation, Elliott didn’t dignify the strangers with an answer. He knew they were just trying to raise a reaction out of it for their own amusement and instead of screaming and kicking, which would be giving them what they want, he needed to focus and try to find a way out of this. But focusing became quite difficult after one of the men circled around him and the tattooed guy who was still holding on to him to come and place himself behind him. Again, he felt large and solid hands on his hips, tracing not so gently their curves, before getting lower and groping his ass. Without wanting to, he let out a yelp after a particularly strong squeeze on one of his cheeks and he tried to kick backward, hoping that his booted foot would land on the gross man’s knee, but to no avail. Instead, he got pulled all the way down onto the floor by the same annoying man that had a grip on him and even if his hair got let go, Elliott felt a boot press on the back of his neck before the end of his bat came into his vision, gently tapping the floor right in front of his nose. 

"Tsk, tsk. Such a wild one. From the scar on your nose… It makes me believe it was broken, once upon a time… Do you really want me to break it again, or are you going to stay still for a while, Mirage?", said the stranger full of ink upon his frame. The Trickster felt a hitch in his breathing as he did his best to not shake under the threats that were given to him. His widened gaze stayed right on the piece of wood that was a few inches away from his face despite hearing movements behind him. Without necessarily feeling any weight against the lower part of his body, he could feel the heat from the man that, a few instant ago, groped him, who had come down on all four to rest just above him. He felt a clammy hand slithering under the seam of his shirt that, soon enough, was raised to expose the tanned skin of his back. Cool air hit his burning frame as he was trying to keep his breathing under control, shivering under the goosebumps that were appearing upon his exposed back and shoulders. What was probably simply a couple of quiet seconds felt an eternity for Elliott who could feel the burning gaze of his four aggressors laid on him and, even though he didn’t want any of what was about to happen next, he was quietly internally begging for them to just get on with it since he couldn’t avoid it. The wait was simply dreadful and it was a torture to whitstand because all he could do was lay there, imagining what their dirty minds had as plans for him. Then, after hearing a very faint but guttural growl, the engineer felt a warm and drooly tongue run on the side of his face, from his jawbone to his temple, passing by his cheek. He shivered and not in a good way. Moreso in a disgusting fashion and even though he wanted to complain, he didn’t say a word since not only it would’ve been useless, but also because he didn’t have the time. Instead, he felt a forceful thrust against his behind, unable to not notice the hard bulge that was formed in between the gross man’s thighs, before hearing a knife being unsheathe. Once again, his heart started racing and he started to squirm in his spot, trying to look behind him to see the source of the alarming sound, however a single but strong tap of the bat on the wooden floor ahead of him reminded him of staying put. 

"P-please. Don’t do it...", he whispered despite knowing such vile individuals wouldn’t stop at a simple demand. 

"Don’t do what?" The weight on his neck was shifted around as the tattooed guy crouched to be able to look at his prey in the eyes, leaning some of his weight on the bat so he wouldn’t totally crush Elliott’s airways while doing so, waiting for an answer. But the holographic expert stayed quiet, avoiding the other’s gaze and looking straight forward instead. Since the man got no answer, he shrugged and nodded toward his acolyte placed above the Legend to signal him to resume his action. Then Witt felt a tug on his pants before some whistling and cat calling could be heard above the sound of some fabric being cut and torn. The same happened with his boxers before he felt a hand brushing his now exposed ass. Despite his blood now running completely cold, he felt his face burn as all eyes on him were admiring the culprit of his now ragged clothes playing with his naked behind since he was kneading it with two hands, spreading those plump and muscular buttcheeks apart to inspect him. It was only once he felt a finger touch his entrance that Elliott jumped in place, curling his fist in a ball as he felt it try to breach the rim despite his clenching that was a pure sign of protest. It was a reaction that forced a cackle out of his abuser behind him. 

"Well, boys! Ain’t he a tight one, this one. What are we gonna do with such an ass?" Without even a shadow of a warning, a fat finger pushed itself deep within his walls, all the way to the second knuckle, and without no such thing as lubricant, which ripped a small cry out of Elliott that arched his hips forward, trying to move far away from the digit. But a strong hand dug in his hip, with enough strength to leave bruises, and held him in place for a second finger to join it’s predecessor. The trickster froze in place, eyes wide as a saucer, as he tried to stop his breathing to be so ecstatic. With the blood that was pumping so fast in his veins and with the deafening buzzing that was plaguing his hearing, the poor Legend couldn’t discern what was being said around him as the four men were deciding on their next move while the one that was already two digits deep in their prey was moving them inside of him back and forth, only stopping their movement to scissor them around. 

Shuffling happened around Witt who was trying to recollect himself despite the dry pain that was becoming worse by the seconds, and it was the sound of some glass breaking that finally dragged the owner of the bar out of his terror state. Jerking his head to one side, he caught one of his assailants behind the bar, looking probably for some booze or cigarettes, who had accidentally knocked one of the empty beer bottles on the floor that had shattered on impact. 

"Huh. That is actually not a bad idea", the guy said as all eyes turned to him. He grabbed one of the other empty bottles that was still laying around the wooden counter and crossed the bar to get closer to his acolytes. After lighting himself a cigarette that he had found hidden back there, he grabbed his accomplice that was still two fingers deep in the poor brown haired engineer and shoved him aside to take his place, kneeling above Elliott. 

"I’m sure this will stretch him just enough for us." He dragged on his cigarette before blowing out the smoke, spreading his target’s buttcheeks to look at that puckered entrance on which he then spat on. The man looked at the drool leak for a few seconds then pressed the bottleneck of the beer bottle on the abused hole. Elliott let out a stifled protest as he tried to move away from the cold glass but a sudden burning sensation on one of his buttcheek stopped him in his movements, forcing a new cry out of his throat; His aggressor had just pressed the cherry of his cigarette straight on him as a warning that none of his thrashing around would be tolerated and before Elliott could protest some more, he pushed the mouth of the bottle inside of him. The Legend gasped as he froze in place, his nails clawing at the floor beneath him. The men around him laughed at him, but he didn’t hear it. His ears were buzzing and all he felt was pain at his entrance, the bottle being pushed further and further. By the time the engineer felt the thicker part of the bottle press against his hole, he could feel a thick warm liquid leaking down his trembling thighs. By the coppery smell that hit him like a tidal wave, Elliott knew instantly that it was blood, that by the lack of proper preparation and lubrication, the forced intrusion had torn his entrance. Which was making any movement of the bottle worse. 

When he finally got a hold of himself, the Trickster simply closed his eyes shut and braced himself to the best of his ability until he heard one of his abusers groan in annoyance. "Ugh. He’s getting boring. Move away. You’re taking too much time." Elliott felt a change in the weight behind him before he got fucked by the bottle faster and harder, which made him only cry out as he tried to get on his knees and elbows. He had no idea if he did it to try and crawl away or simply to brace himself, but the action only attracted more laughter and teasing toward him.

"Look at him! He’s just getting in position to beg for some more. I think we’ve opened him more than enough." A few more thrusts in and out of the makeshift glass toy were forced down inside of him, the man always trying to push it further in despite the change in the shape and size of the bottle once it was past the first half of it that made it quite hard, but it finally got removed in a swift movement to be discarded on the side. Feeling empty, Witt let out a sigh of relief, wishing that it would stay that way, but he got rapidly turned around on his back by a strong grip under his knee. His legs were pushed spread open for that same bastard to lodge himself in between them, his hard cock now teasing his bleeding hole. It was a slight mistake for the intruders to have put him on his back because, in this position, the Legend was more apt to fight back; the bartender took advantage that the man who was getting ready to ravage him was somewhat in trance at the sight of his tanned naked body to punch him straight on the nose. He had been quick enough that a hard crunch could be heard, which attracted the attention of the three other acolytes who had let their guard down; all three of them probably thought their partners in crime had the situation under control and had scattered around the empty bar to enjoy the moment, drinking, smoking and looking around even for some food. 

"How much of an incompetant bastard are you?!", roared the tattooed guy as he got up, beer in his hand. "We leave you a few minutes to have fun with him because you wanted to get the first go and you lose control of him?" Kicking a chair out of his way, the guy got closer to just ram his foot in Elliott’s side, forcing a groan and severe cough out of the beloved Legend. "If you still want the first go, I suggest you hurry up already. We’re all waiting on you to dig in. I just want to get a taste of that sweet ass of his." The inked bastard crouched next to the curled up Trickster, a clearly annoyed expression was clinging to the his traits when he took a pocket knife out to press it against his prey’s throat, putting enough pressure for the blade to dig in his skin and leave an angry red mark. "You… I’m getting quite fed up with your attitude… I did warn you to stay still and you didn’t so…" the cold blade trailed upward along his jaw then to his lips, threatening to dig in the plump lower one of the two and Elliott had to blink a few times to hold back some tears that were rising to his eyes. 

"We’re going to have to do this the hard way, hm." The bastard unbuckled his belt before removing it in a swift motion. Putting his switchblade in between his teeth, he grabbed ahold of both of the engineer’s wrists so he could use the leather accessory to tie them together and hold them down over their prey’s head. A few seconds later, his legs were once again spread wide open and before he could trash some more around, a burning pain assaulted his entrance as his aggressor pushed himself inside of him. He gasped for air as he saw white flashes, this cock being clearly thicker than the bottle, but it felt like no air could reach his lungs. Eyes going wide, Elliott arched his back as the man pushed himself further and further inside of him until his hips were flushed against the brunette’s behind. Only then did the trickster succeed in breathing, no sounds leaving his slightly parted lips as he stayed completely frozen in place for the time being, both his body and his mind trying to register all of this. 

It hurt. It hurt so badly it felt like he was in shock. He felt almost disconnected from the reality. This had to be a dream. A really bad dream. That’s it. The bleach bottle fell on his head earlier when he opened the cleaning closet to close his bar and it knocked him out, giving him the worst nightmare he ever had. Oh how he wished… But the way he belted out a scream when feeling those hips move back out of him just to slam harshly back in simply brought him back to the horrific reality. He wasn’t dreaming. There were really four guys in his bar. Two of them smoking and drinking, another one holding him down while the last one was shoved deep between his inner walls, groaning as he was moving ever so slightly back and forth.

"Ooff… you’re so tight… feeling so good around my cock." Thick hands gripping those tanned thighs, each trusts were becoming more and more erratic. Sometimes they were short but hard, other times long and slow, each time feeling so much different than the other, but none less painful from the one before.  
"P-please j-ju… j-just stop-p", finally moaned the curly haired man whose tied up hands were desperately trying to grab at something. Anything to help him ground himself as he shook from head to toes. Each and every muscle on his athletic frame were so tense that he almost looked chiseled and it only made the switchblade guy yearn for more. Since only one of the man’s hands was busy holding down Elliott’s wrists, he used the other one to run his fingers in the thick curls on their victim’s head. 

"Stop what?", asked the man now that his lips were tasting the Legend’s soft skin, gliding above his throat then to the side of his neck until it reached the side of his neck. Feeling the guy’s warm breath on him was enough to make the engineer quiver and bite down on his lip, but it was really the hot tongue that licked his earlobe that made him whimper in disgust. 

"Stop just sitting there and let my dude here do all the work when I could also partake?" As soon as he heard those words, Witt knew he made a mistake. That he should’ve stayed quiet. But he knew it was far too late for that since he felt a thumb shove itself in between his lips, tough hand grabbing him by the jaw. "Maybe you shoulda been a little more specific, Mirage." His head got held in place until he felt a hard presence against his lips, threatening to part them at any moment if it wasn’t from him trying to turn his face away from the member that was presented to him. Elliott hummed in disapproval as he shut his eyes tightly and shook his head but a hard slap to his face left a burning kiss to his cheek and stopped him in his fight. In his appalled state, he was an easy target as he didn’t fight no more, way too baffled, and simply let his assailant slip in his mouth.

It was salty to the taste, potentially because the man’s cock was drooling pre-cum and it only served to make him gag once the fat head pushed against his gag reflex, which not only made his assailant groan at the sudden constriction around his dick but also let out a pitiful laugh. 

"Hah… with the show you keep putting on, I woulda thought you were more used to suck dicks. I am quite surprised for such a pretty face like yours." The bastard looked down and locked eye contact with poor Elliott who was trying to regulate his breathing and patted him gently a few times on his bruised cheek. "Don’t forget to breathe by your nose and you really don’t wanna know what I’ll do to ya if I ever feel let alone one tooth."

His mouth being obstructed this way combined with his chest heaving from his adrenaline pumping in his veins from the heavy pounding he kept receiving, the engineer was barely able to take any oxygen in. Black spots were clouding his vision and he was getting the feeling that he was to simply black out at this point. To which he was thinking that it would maybe make this horrific situation better, that he wouldn’t have to be awake while they would do whatever they wanted to him and that he would only have the bruises in the next few days to tell him what actually happened despite him not wanting to necessarily. Slowly, his body was going numb and limp, losing all energy in his limbs, as he felt like the two men above him where almost moving in tandem to assault both his ass and his throat; As one is pushing in, the other one is pulling out just to alternate again and again, moving like pistons on a machinery. Either it was planned between the two of them to drive their poor victim crazy or not, but it was frankly effective, never leaving Elliott a simple second of break. 

By now, his eyes felt heavy and all fight was leaving his body and soul. The trickster was (determined) to let himself slip in this unconscious state, but only when his eyelids finally shut and that most of the laughs, moans and groans were fading that a “splash” of liquid crashed on his traits, pulling him out of his semi consciousness. The engineer’s eyes went wide and he tried to gasp for air, but his mouth still being filled by this thick erection made him feel like he was being dry waterboarded. The legend’s aggressors saw him struggle and they only laughed some more as all eyes were on him.

"Look alive, Legend! Are we that boring? Ya look like you were about to fall asleep on us. Eyes closin’ ‘n’all. I thought a little drink would wake you up." The guy smiled at him with his crooked teeth before giving a hard single thrust of his hips, tearing a moan out of his prey who finally raised his tied hands to try and push him off. The man cackled at what he considered a sad attempt. "Whaddya think you’d do in this position? I’m not going anywhere and my dick won't suck itself anymore. Tighten up those pretty lips, hot stuff."

"Hey! What’s taking so long already? I want some of that too! Move aside. Those lips look so soft…" The words seemed distant and barely audible once they reached the trickster’s ears, but it only served to stress him out some more. Two were already wrecking his body as of now, he didn’t know how much more he could endure. The physical pain was something he was already accustomed to because of the Games, but his mind felt like it was threatening to snap at any moment, ready to follow those hot tears that were now leaking down his face. 

A harsh slap on one of his thigh made the legend jump a bit, bringing his attention back on the man that never stopped fucking him since he had shoved himself deep inside of him, before he heard the four of his somewhat yell at each other on who’s going to be next in line and complain that the two already having fun were too slow. Elliott’s mind was so blurry that he could barely perceive what they were actually saying, but he felt a change in the cadence of the man at his rear, same with his breathing as he was getting more and more erratic.

“Thank gods, he must be close…”, was all he was able to think to himself as he felt like he was being rammed so hard that the inside of his thighs and his butt would have bruises. A loud moan from his rapist later, Witt felt this warm sticky cum paint his insides while all three other present individuals simply cheered for this unraveling like this was a big show. Yeah… Elliott felt like a goddamn circus attraction… 

"Hmmpfh!! That felt good…", groaned the man once he finally stopped moving his hips completely and for the first time since their arrival, the trickster was able to breathe properly! Not only the now soft cock slipped out from within his abused walls, which made him gape wide involuntarily from the absence of filling, but also his throat was finally freed from any sweaty drooling presence. He coughed again as he brought a hand to his throat, massaging it gently and turned on his stomach so he could get himself on his hands and knees. The curly haired victim had no idea what he thought he would be doing, but he crawled a few steps forward, his mind only wanting to get away from those invaders. Obviously, he didn’t quite go far that a rough hand grabbed him by the hair and raised him to his feet where he got forced to stare straight into the eyes of the tattooed guy. 

"Tsk tsk tsk. Where do you think you are going, gorgeous? Do you think we were done with you? Ho ho ho… but we just started!" That sadistic smile was still on the man’s lips, which was totally contradictory with the hand that he was gently brushing on Elliott’s bruised cheek, making that gesture ô so ominous... It was a mere presage of what was to come. "Come here. There are still three of us who still need to empty our balls and you’ve shown us how good of a dumpster you are."

The man barely let the engineer get his balance nor the chance to actually walk by himself as he dragged him, never letting go of his iron grip on his hair, until they reached the bar in the middle of the room. The inked individual shoved Witt’s torso against the counter, face pushed against the surface, to expose his naked ass and gaping hole to the room. He undid his belt and followed the path of his predecessor, slamming himself straight inside of the legend so fast that he tore an actual scream out of Elliott’s throat. 

"hah! … Listen to that… screaming like a good little whore. Ain’t that what you are, Mirage? After all… you’re always looking for attention like a whore. Always talking… always putting up a show…" More blood ran down the trickster’s trembling thighs, him who couldn’t contain any moans of pain, any cries as he was trying to brace himself on the counter, shaking his head in disbelief. "And that swagger in your walk as you’re going forward while aiming down a sight… Hmmmhmmm! Gotta love the way those hips move. Like they are calling for something. And let me tell you… for a so-called Apex Predator, you didn’t quite put up a fight… I wonder how many dicks you had to suck to get that status. Probably not that many because you didn’t seem that good up until now at doing it… How about we keep training you on it…"

"P-p-please… No… N-- ah!" Elliott could barely speak a whole sentence. Everytime he seemed to be forming a proper word, the man behind him was simply getting more and more aggressive in his own movement, slamming so hard into him that the trickster could barely feel his hip bones no more from the intensity that they were being hit against the hard surface under him. He’d be baffled if he came out of this nightmare without a cracked bone of some sort. 

"Speak up, bitch" growled the man into the legend’s ear after forcing him upright, still having a good grip on his thick brown curl from earlier. "Remember what happened to you earlier when you didn’t… We could always give you a repeat of it…"

"N-no. N-no m-more. I-I-I just c-can’t-- Ah! C-can’t take anym-more of i-it. Fuck!" Never did he beg this way before in his life and it was such a (shame?) to be reduced to this, nothing more than a messy stuttering mess, both fists gripping the edge of the bar in front of him with such strength that his knuckles turned white. Elliott was flexing his body so hard that his muscles were screaming mercy, but he wasn’t able to relax… Especially from this angle, it was so easy for the man behind the Legend to slip in and out, reaching so deep that each thrust was hitting his prostate, which made the engineer see white. 

Witt’s vision was so cloudy that he didn’t even see another one of his aggressors walk behind the bar’s counter so he could face him. He only realized it once he fell a strong hand gently pressed on his cheek, thumb wiping away his tears as he was forced to look upward.

"Oh but don’t cry, beautiful. We’re just having a great time between us, men", started the man, sliding his wet thumb over the holo-expert’s swollen lower lip, smearing the tears on it. "Even though... you look so pretty right now, open and exposed, bawling your eyes out…" He then shoved it in his mouth, pressing it down on Elliott’s tongue as he held him by the jaw. "The only way you’d look better, now… it would be if my cock was deep down your throat, no?" Forced to suck on that intrusive thumb, the Apex Predator shook his head negatively, unable to answer through the moans that the dick still fucking him from behin was ripping out of his throat, and it only made the man in front of him laugh as he stare at his caramel pupils. 

But it’s not like he really had a choice in this. Even if the colossal man asked him his two-cents, it was obviously a rhetorical question since the guy lifted himself from the ground, kneeling on the hidden counter behind the bar so he could be hips leveled with Elliott’s face and lowered both his pants and boxers to expose his hard dick that was thick with anticipation. Grabbing their victim with two hands at the back of his head, he rubbed his swollen erection against his face, not exactly slipping in his mouth just yet. He was just enjoying the feeling of his burning hot face, humping him without shame as he was groaning about how good he’s going to feel. 

And just like that, he moved Witt’s head back, just so he could force himself all the way at the back of his throat, making him gag as he wasn’t prepared for such presence. Finally releasing the edge of the counter, Elliott raised his hands so he could try to push the man away but it was useless. The poor man was so exhausted from what felt like torture to him that he could barely lean into his agressor’s chest to push him away. His arms were as shaky as his legs and they were at best and inconvenient for the individual that was trying to trust inside his mouth. 

"Look at your multitasking like a champ!" groaned the man who was still assaulting his burning ass, petting their victim’s hair in a condescendant way. "Taking me so well… taking him so well… even holding him by the hips!" That was a big fat lie. They all knew Elliott wasn’t holding him by the hips but was trying to push him away. "I wonder what else we could do to keep you busy…"

Elliott let out a loud disapproving moan that vibrated around the cock stretching his throat open. He started to thrash around once more to the best of his ability, which was obviously not enough because it seemed like none of his assailants were worried about it. They all continued what they were doing, talking in between themselves, until another of them jumped over the counter to come join the merry fuck train. Taking one of Elliott’s hands, he brought it to his hard crotch and indicated the engineer to start stroking him. Between having to keep up with the man raping him, having to sceal his lips and now tug on an already drooling dick, he was loosing coordination, which made his assaulters starting to loose patience because they not only got more energetic, but the two men in front of him, that were now side by side, were fighting for his mouth.

Every few minutes… or seconds… to him, all time was irrelevant since it was blurry in his mind, Elliott was able to take a deep breath, his swollen lips being liberated from any presence before being taken again by a different dick. He barely had the time to catch his breath, too busy coughing from the abuse, that he had to adapt to a different size and shape of cock, making it hard to suck properly on them, which seemed to be what the two acolytes where looking for because it didn’t take them long for them to groan and sigh to that treatment, fighting for a feel of what they kept calling a marvelous tongue. Because yes, despite hating every moments of what was happening to him, Witt was still giving it the best he could in hope they would come faster and leave him the fuck alone.

Seeing spots in his visions, Witt thought once again he was about to just pass out. His legs weren’t bracing him upward against the bar no more, limbs simply dangling from the counter as he was pushed back and forth due to the contradictions in the thrusts that were assaulting from both angles. What got his blood pumping however, was the feeling of a stranger’s hand around his own soft cock. It made him twitch in place, opening his eyes wide as he realized what was happening. Which incited him to plant his hands back on the hips in front of him and push with this new surge of strength against them, pulling his head backward just enough for the dick lodged in between his lips could slip out with a loud pop.

"W-what ?! N-n-no! Do-- don’t t-touch me!" All of a sudden, Elliott felt like all his fighting energy was coming back to him, planting his feet down on the floor so he could try to move his hips away from the hand that was rubbing him gently despite the fact that it was forcing him to impale himself more against the man behind him. "N-n-n-not there. Please. Anywhere b-but not t-t-there…"

"Really? But it seems like you’re enjoying it. Look at you growing in my hand by the second", snickered the tattooed guy who kept stroking him. The trickster couldn’t avoid it. His body was betraying him. His manhood specifically was betraying him. With any attention that was directed toward his dick, blood was flowing southward and with every moan that was drifting out of his parted lips, his cock kept getting harder. He hated it. He hated every moment of it. As if he thought there was nothing else they could do to violate him and make it worse, there they were, doing the last thing possible to humiliate him.

"N-n-- aaahh… No! I-I’m not! Nnngh…" It’s like the whole room had stopped breathing except for him. Nobody was saying a word, nobody was moving… Except for that hand that kept stroking him. He still had the tattooed guy’s dick deep within him but without moving and his mouth was finally being spared in what had seemed a while. All eyes were back on him, watching the engineer getting flustered, panting away as he felt a fire building in his stomach. No. He didn’t want to cum. He didn’t want to enjoy this. He was not enjoying this. It was a disgusting, humiliating situation, but he couldn’t stop the desire to unravel building slowly but surely in his groin. 

"Shhh… Just let it go… We all know that a little whore like you likes to be fucked. That you enjoy my hand on your hard cock while I’m balls deep in you", whispered the inked individual in Elliott’s ear before licking it then nibbling it. The man could feel the subtle movement the trickster was doing with his hips, humping the hand that was squeezing his manhood just right. 

Witt’s breathing got more ecstatic as he could feel all the blood that wasn’t rushing south pumping in his temple. Eyes closed, he tried his best to ignore the pejorative words whispered to him and instead of fighting something he couldn’t win, he just let it go. Fucking the hand on him, the Legend was moving in between those fingers and the cock still burried in him. Each side he was now slamming his hips backward against his aggressor, he was arching his back just enough to make it so it would hit his sweet spot that made his mewl of pleasure for the first time in this whole ordeal. 

"Hmmm That’s it, baby. Impale yourself on my fat cock… Hmmm… You feel so good and I can hear that you love it. Lemme help you a bit, here..." The inked bastard moved his hips backward so he could slip out of his prey’s entrance but rested the tip of his dick right against the swollen opening, keeping still for a few seconds, before slamming fast and hard, right back where he was. It ripped a new scream out of the exhausted engineer who shook both from pain and from pleasure as he felt the man’s tip crash against his prostate, making him see stars like he wasn’t expected to. Elliott was so torn. In all the senses of the terms since his ass was literally ripping more and more and he was unsure of what to feel anymore. His whole body was aching but his mind was also clouded by lust. 

The fire in his loin kept building up and up and he ended up gripping the counter beneath him as he let his head fall backward, moaning loudly. His body being struck with such intense feelings, he stopped moving for the time being as he painted the wall of the counter beneath him with multiple bursts, each string of cum being thicker one than another. Rocking gently his hips back and forth, he rode his orgasm that was forced upon him, unable to stop himself from panting and shaking as he closed his eyes. Until he heard the man behind groan loudly. 

"Ooooh fuck. You’re so tight, right now… I can barely move…" The voice brought Elliott back to his situation, each disgusting feeling sinking slowly back into his whole being. The hand that was around his now softening cock moved away to be clasp over his mouth. He could smell himself… Heck. He could taste his own unraveling and it made him want to throw up. Not because it was a bad taste nor because it was the first time he was tasting himself, on the contrary, the trickster wasn’t picky on that when he was doing it with someone he wanted to… When he was having sex in a consensual way. But he felt dirty. Felt disgusting. He didn’t want any of this. He did not enjoy any moment of it, despite what those guys were trying to make him believe. 

"Lick my hand clean. A bitch like you should at least know how to do this properly." At this point, Witt felt like he had no more reason to fight. They had taken every bit of pride that he had so all he could do was take it. With a glassy look on him, he sucked every last drop of cum that had stained the tattooed hand, making sure he didn’t miss any if he didn’t want to suffer some more and he started to drift away. Now that he had cum, his body was feeling tighter than ever, making the assault more painful, but he felt in a semi conscious state. Or more in a state where he was somewhat blocking mentally what was happening. His mind was in such shock that it couldn’t take anything else and it just snapped.

Elliott didn’t know for how long it happened. How many turns they each took on him, moving him around the room to fuck him in every position possible, but when he ended up coming out of it, he was left as a messy pile on the wooden floor, tanned body painted with cum a little bit everywhere, his baseball bat sticking out of him. He couldn’t even remember them defiling him with it, all was way too vague. But the poor man knew he would feel it’s repercussions for the next few days if not more. Probably more than that… yeah… His breathing was raspy, he had bruises covering him from head to toes and the simple task of lifting his eyes was excruciating. 

"Hey. You’re still awake, Witt?" The engineer felt a condescending slap on his cheek before he opened his eyes to raise them and stare at the inked man that had kneel next to him, fully clothed, dick tucked back where it belonged. All that came out of the Legend was an annoyed huff, only wanting to be left alone. He had nothing to say to any of these men. Elliott had beg for them to stop, he had left his pride on the side to cry and hoped for them to not touch him further, but none of them did so he had no reason to say a single word. 

"Eyes up here, champ…" Elliott felt his head being lifted from the wooden floor by the hair so he was forced to look up and into what seemed to be a small black glassy circle tacked on the inked man’s shirt, making him groan as he felt the bat shift inside of him at the sudden movement. It took a few seconds for him to understand what he was staring at then it hit him like a glacial wave; it was a camera. This whole thing had been recorded… Or worse, live streamed somewhere. Witt tried to form a word, wanting to ask what was going on with that, but despite his lips moving, no sound came out of them. His aggressor laughed at him for it.

"Just to let you know… Mr. Silva is sending you his regards", he answered to the silent question that was pending in the air, tapping gently at the micro camera on his chest. 

Then Elliott’s face crashed on the floor after the man let go of his drenched curls, being so sweaty that his normally perfect hair was sticking to his face. After a last kick to the stomach, the man walked away, leaving their victim in a baffled state. After hearing Octavio’s last name, everything finally seemed clear. Fuck that kid! Witt knew that Octane would come back at him for beating him in the ring earlier that day but… Never would he had imagined that the rich kid would have gone to this intent. Never! 

The Legend heard the door of his bar open then close. It became so quiet in the Paradise Lounge that he knew he was finally left to himself. And that’s when all emotion invaded Elliott’s mind all at once. For the first time in this whole damn night, he allowed himself to sob freely to himself. The trickster curled onto himself in a ball, trying to psych himself slowly to be able to move on from this, until he was mentally ready for it.

The man tugged gently on the bat that was still stretching him and he let out a hissed, stifling a swear by biting down on his already cut lip. It burn. His whole inner walls were burning at the simple movement of the wooden stick. Despite all the blood that coated it, it didn’t really make it more slippery thus there was no gentler way of taking it out. 

Taking a deep inhale, Elliott tried to relax his body before wrapping his fingers around the base of it and braced himself for the worse. In a quick but careful motion of his forearm, he pulled out the bat, letting out a pained cry, dropping the makeshift weapon onto the floor. The legend dared looking at it and the amount of blood and cum that was covering the end of it made him feel both dizzy and nauseous so he instantly looked away. 

Witt stayed collapsed on the floor for another few minutes before he braved using the last strengths he felt he had to get himself on his feet. Yes, he was wobbly, yes his body kept threatening him to just go limp at any seconds, but he forced himself to walk to the front door, locking it for sure this time, before anybody would come back in. He was not only afraid of someone coming back to continue this inhuman treatment, but also dreading that someone would see him in this weak state. It’s why he got himself to go all the way to the back door to make sure it was also barred…

Coming back to the main room, Elliott looked around. Like his thighs, there was bits of blood and cum splattered around. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the floor. The state of his lounge almost got the best of him as he almost collapsed once more, feeling tears threatening to roll down his face but he stopped himself after a single sob. Feeling completely out of it, he walked toward one of the booths where he let himself crash on it. The poor man was still naked and shaking, but he was in such a distressed state that the only thing he felt could comfort him right now was dozing off to sleep, totally unable to deal right now with what had happened to him.

If there was one thing Elliott knew as he closed his eyes, curling up on himself, is that he’ll have to have a straight talk with that rich kid… He knew Octavio was messed up… but if this was his way of coming back at him, they’d have to have a serious talk...


End file.
